Once Upon an Ice Queen (Instalove in the City Book 3) Page 2

  Emma’s lips turned down in a pout that almost worked. Luckily Kennedy knew better. Give this girl an inch and she’d take a mile.

  “Come on, Kennedy. Just stay for a little while longer.”

  But Kennedy was already backing up, making her way toward the door with another apologetic wince. So sorry, gotta go.

  It wasn’t until she hit the cold air outside that she allowed herself a long exhale of relief. Thank goodness, she’d escaped. She should never have let Emma talk her in to going to a party. Ever, but most especially on this day of all days.

  You need to get out there, Emma had insisted as Kennedy had poured herself a bowl of cereal for dinner. You need to meet people.

  Why? Why did she need to meet people? Emma had never given her a satisfactory explanation for that one.

  If she had to guess, she’d say Emma, like most of her friends and family, was hoping that she’d meet someone.

  Someone other than Patrick.

  But Kennedy had no plans to meet someone new. She and Patrick had a good thing. Or they had before they’d decided to take a break while Patrick went off to get his MBA in Boston.

  Just like their relationship, their decision to press pause on their relationship was practical. It made sense.

  But try explaining that to Emma.

  Practical, she’d repeat with a look of disgust. What does practicality have to do with romance?

  But what Emma could never seem to grasp was that Kennedy didn’t want romance. She didn’t need it. Maybe she had some sort of genetic flaw or something, because she’d never been one for love stories and fairytales. What she wanted out of life, and out of a partner, was respect, autonomy, and a well-defined path.

  She had that with Patrick, just like she had that with her career. And that was no accident. She’d plotted her career in human resources to follow a clear-cut trajectory, just like she and Patrick had planned out their life together based on their mutual needs and desires.

  It all made perfect sense, really, including their decision to take these two years to focus on their individual pursuits rather than bog themselves down with the logistics of a long distance relationship.

  Of course, Emma didn’t understand any of that. Kennedy could talk until she was blue in the face and Emma would still give her that same puzzled look—the one that made her eyebrows draw together and her nose crinkle up. It was adorable, really. Adorable and annoying. She was tired of having to explain herself and exhausted by nights like tonight when her well-intentioned friend tried to get her out of the apartment.

  “Good luck.” A guy’s voice next to her called her out of her reverie and brought her to the moment.

  The man beside her was huddled in on himself, as if hunching would make the cold go away. He was cute in a scruffy way. Dark hair, scruffy beard. That was about all she could tell from her view of his profile.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  He glanced over and she temporarily forgot to breathe. Oh man. He wasn’t cute. He was hot. No, he was gorgeous. Like, somebody ought to put this guy up on a billboard kind of gorgeous.

  She found herself blinking rapidly. Clearly her eyes couldn’t take in this much masculine beauty all at once.

  He nodded toward the street. “Good luck getting a taxi. I’ve been waiting forever.”

  His words managed to cut through her haze of awe. Oh. Right. He was standing there waiting for a cab.

  She held up her phone automatically. “I’ve got one coming.”

  His scowl was hot. How did he manage that? He pulled his dark eyebrows together and his perfect mouth turned down at the corners. “I tried ordering a cab and it keeps saying there are none available.”

  He said it as an accusation. As if she’d worked some kind of voodoo to summon a ride.

  She thought about informing him that she’d hailed the cab nearly an hour ago but changed her mind. Instead she shrugged and gave him a smug little smile. “I guess they just like me more than you.”

  He made a snorting noise that made steam billow in front of his face like one of those horses in Central Park. For some reason that image made her laugh—no one in their right mind would compare this guy to a horse.

  His scowl intensified. “I’m so glad my misery amuses you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, grumpy.”

  He bristled.

  Man, this guy was too much fun to annoy. Inexplicably, his growing irritation made hers diminish. The more annoyed he got, the more amused she became. Thank goodness, because she’d been just about ready to hurt somebody after putting up with all those morons back at the bar.

  Not that Kat was a moron, but her friends seemed to be.

  Or maybe she just hadn’t been in a party mood. But then again, had she ever been in a party mood? She honestly had to mull that over. She was so lost in thought, she kind of forgot that grumpy hot dude was still standing there.

  But he was, and apparently he was still annoyed with her. “You know, a nice person would offer to share her ride.”

  She narrowed her eyes as she pretended to mull that over. “This ‘nice person’ you speak of… She sounds like an idiot.”

  His nostrils flared and she just barely smothered a laugh. This guy was funny when he was angry. Maybe because it seemed so wrong on him. He didn’t seem like a gruff, grumpy guy. He was too pretty for that. His shockingly blue eyes looked hurt, and his mouth pursed in a pout.

  Like a little boy who’d been told he couldn’t play with his favorite toy.

  That image made her grin widen as she crossed her arms to keep out the cold.

  “Why is she an idiot?” He sounded personally offended.

  Was he serious? “Because what kind of dimwit shares a ride with a guy she doesn’t know? Your hypothetical nice girl is just asking to be murdered by a serial killer.”

  He blinked at her and she saw some of his miserable gloominess lift for a moment as amusement flickered over his features. “Sounds like someone is a scaredy-cat. Is that your way of saying you think I might be a serial killer?”

  Before she could respond, he reached up and scratched at his scruffy beard. “Is it the beard? Because that’s kinda the look I was going for.”

  She squinted at him like he was a crazy person, because he obviously was. She was torn over whether to scold him for calling her a scaredy-cat or laugh at his sudden glee.

  Laughter won out. She shook her head and turned back to the street. “You’re nuts.”

  “Maybe, but I’m not a serial killer.”

  She turned to glance at him and he brought three fingers up. “Scouts honor.”

  “I bet that’s what all serial killers say.”

  He smiled and she had to turn away so he didn’t see the effect it had on her. Quite frankly, the effect was embarrassing. That dazzling smile was like a bolt of lightning. Her insides sizzled as heat spread through her veins.

  What. The. Heck?

  This was so not okay.

  The hot bearded guy rubbed his hands together and then crossed his arms over his chest. “I just came from this party,” he said, nodding toward the bar. “I saw you in there, so clearly we have friends in common, which means I’m not technically a stranger.”

  She couldn’t stop watching his mouth. What man had lips like that?

  His words registered belatedly. Friends. They were friends? “I don’t know your name.”

  “But I bet you know my friend Kat,” he said.

  She must have given something away with her expression because his face brightened. “See? You can ask Kat about me. We’ve been friends forever.”

  She believed him, but keeping him waiting was amusing to her. Crossing her arms as well, she tilted her head up and narrowed her eyes, studying him with feigned suspicion. “Okay, hotshot, what’s her husband’s name.”

  “Bryce Dalton.” He smirked. “That’s an easy one.”

  She found herself fighting the urge to smile. He looked so proud of himself. That boyish pou
ting had turned into boyish glee.

  “Okay, what’s her middle name?” She had no idea what Kat’s middle name was but she was having fun toying with this guy.

  “Easy. Penelope. Come on, give me a hard one.”

  She couldn’t fight the laughter much longer, but just then a car pulled up.

  Her ride.

  It was decision time. It was now or never.

  She blinked in surprise. Was she seriously contemplating giving this guy a ride?

  Shock had her eyes widening. Yes. Yes, she was.

  The car’s passenger side window rolled down and she watched the driver look from his phone to her to make sure she matched her profile photo. She wiggled her fingers in a little wave and he jerked his chin in acknowledgment.

  She reached for the door handle and as she did, she heard Kat’s friend sigh heavily. She wished she could have said it was pity that made her hesitate…but she was a terrible liar.

  It was something else.

  It was…intrigue.

  Sadly enough, talking to this weird, overly excitable, scruffy-looking guy was the most fun she’d had in ages.

  Besides, it was early and it was Valentine’s Day. The universe had basically handed her a cute, albeit scruffy, dude to flirt with.

  Also, this guy could be waiting out here in the cold until time immemorial for his ride.

  She turned back before she could overthink it. “Well?” she called out. “Are you coming?”

  Three

  Caleb was too stunned to answer. He stood there gaping at her, sure he’d heard wrong.

  She turned with one hand on top of the door, her voice so soft and so…not at all like the cold, hard mocking tone she’d used earlier. He felt the world screech to a halt at the sudden change in her.

  “What do you say, friend of Kat?” Her eyes widened. “You want a ride?”

  He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t have summoned words if he’d tried. Holy seductress, Batman. This woman was like Poison Ivy meets Cat Woman meets…well, he was out of Batman references.

  But she was hot. And she was alluring.

  And she was waiting for a response.

  “Yes. Definitely, yes.” He hustled over and heard her low laugh as she slid into the back seat, with him following close behind.

  When the door shut behind him they were both cast in shadows and the only thing missing was a cloud of smoke and she would have been the femme fatale out some black and white gangster movie.

  This woman was a mystery. Caleb couldn’t read her at all, and as an actor Caleb prided himself on his ability to read people. But this woman? She’d gone from irritating to irritated to amused to smoldering and then back again in the course of two minutes. She was all over the place.

  She was fascinating.

  Not in a true love kind of way, obviously, but in a character study sort of way. She was hard to read. For Caleb, not many people fell into that category. He’d made a habit of studying people, and most people were easy enough to pin down.

  But not this woman, whose name he still hadn’t learned.

  He kind of liked that, though. He’d been thinking of her as the mystery woman from the first moment he’d spotted her and it was oddly fitting that she remained anonymous.

  He found himself staring at her profile as the cab merged into traffic on the busy avenue.

  “Where are you headed?” he asked. This was something he should have asked before getting in the car, he realized that now.

  She turned to face him and he was struck by how dark and luminous her eyes were in the dim light of the car. Her lips were darker too, and so deliciously pouty, like they were made to be kissed.

  “I’m headed home,” she said.

  Was he imagining that sexy come-hither tone in her voice? He didn’t remember her sounding so breathy when they were on the sidewalk.

  He was suddenly sitting next to Jessica Rabbit in the backseat.

  “Are you coming with me?” Her lips curved up in a little smile that was part amusement, like she was laughing at him, but part sexy allure as well. Like she was beckoning, calling to him.

  This woman was a freakin’ siren.

  A siren in a pantsuit.

  His lips quirked up one side as he treated her to the lopsided smoldering smile that his fans went nuts for. “I’d love to.”

  She jerked back so quickly it looked as though someone had struck her.

  “No, I didn’t…” She sighed loudly, the noise filled with exasperation. “I wasn’t inviting you to my home.” Crazyface. She might as well have called him that because the word was strongly implied in her tone. Her judgment hung between them as she regarded him like he was the world’s biggest perv.

  He wiggled back further onto his side of the backseat. Okay, so maybe he’d misread this situation. “No, yeah. Of course not.”

  “I was being facetious.” She threw a hand out the window where midtown Manhattan flew past them. “I meant, where should we drop you?”

  “Oh. Right.” Of course. That made way more sense. But also… “You know, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

  Her steady gaze was unimpressed. But she didn’t stop him, either. There was definitely some intrigue in her eyes.

  He shouldn’t do this. This lady was so not his dream woman. He didn’t do flings to begin with, and tonight he definitely wasn’t in a good state of mind. So, no. He should not keep talking. He should tell her to have the car pull over in a few blocks so he could try his luck with a cab again. Instead, he said, “Do you want to, maybe…grab a drink of something?”

  She stared at him so steadily he found himself holding his breath as he waited for her scrutiny to end.

  “No.”

  Well. Okay then.

  “We could get coffee,” she said suddenly.

  The woman was definitely a mystery. Maybe it was the lighting. The flickering glow of passing streetlights and neon signs were surely working some kind of magic right now.

  Everything about her seemed insanely tempting. Even the pantsuit. Those long, lean legs, the black curls that gave her an air of glamour, the vivid red lips, so at odds with the corporate attire.

  There she went, shifting right in front of his eyes again. He tilted his head as if that might help him get a solid take on the mystery woman who refused to be pinned down.

  “I’m confused,” he finally admitted.

  Her brows drew down. “What are you confused about?”

  “I thought—” He cleared his throat. “I thought maybe we were flirting. I thought…” Oh crap. He hadn’t been this nervous around a female since senior prom. “I thought maybe you were flirting with me?”

  She stared at him evenly. “Is that a question.”

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded. “I was. I guess.”

  Her brows drew together as if she was also confused.

  “Huh.” Well then. He turned to stare straight ahead, entirely uncertain of what he was supposed to make of that. He was vaguely aware of the fact that they were getting closer to his neighborhood. Soon enough this bizarre exchange would be over. And he would be home.

  Alone.

  On Valentine’s day.

  Yay?

  He turned to face her and found that she was still staring. He wasn’t certain but he suspected she was just as perplexed by this interaction as he was.

  Were they flirting or did she despise him? Did he want to flirt with her or did he want to go home?

  He suspected she was asking herself the same questions.

  “Well?” she said. “Do you want a coffee or not?”

  He winced. “I can’t drink coffee this late.”

  She nodded as if that answered that. Which it did, but even so…

  “Pizza?” The word sort of tumbled out after he’d spotted a Ray’s pizza joint on the corner.

  She arched a brow. “You don’t want coffee but you want to grab a slice of greasy pizza?”

  He lifted a shoulder. It wasn’t the worst idea he
’d ever had. But clearly she thought it was.

  “How romantic,” she muttered.

  He shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his eyes and then scratching at the stupid beard. “Romantic? Are we…is this…?” He turned so he was fully facing her. “Is this, like, a date?”

  Her lips curled up in a sneer. “No. Of course not.”

  “Of course not,” he repeated. There might have been just a little snark to his tone. It couldn’t be helped. He was confused, and tired, and bitter, and about to lose his job. He was allowed to be snarky.

  “We just met two minutes ago,” she said. “It’s not a date.”

  “Sorry.” He said it automatically and got annoyed just as quickly. “Wait, no. I’m not sorry.” He gestured between them. “I am sensing some major mixed signals here.”

  She opened her mouth as if she might protest but froze before any words came out. When she slumped down in her seat, looking sad and defeated, he officially felt like a jerk.

  “Now I am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to sound like… I mean, I wasn’t expecting anything when I got in the cab. But then you were sitting there all beautiful and your voice is really sexy, did you know that? And I just…I didn’t…” He sighed. “I didn’t know what to think.”

  He could feel her stare on the side of his face.

  “What?” he asked. “Are you wishing you’d left me to rot out in the cold? You are, aren’t you?”

  Her low laughter did something to him. It seemed to slide down his spine like a caress. “No. I wouldn’t want to see your perfect face ruined by frost bite.”

  The laughter in her voice had him glancing over. Amused again. Amused he could do. “Perfect, huh?”

  She rolled her eyes but she was grinning. “Except for the beard.”

  Just the mention of it had him scratching the stupid thing.

  “So,” she said.

  “So,” he answered.

  Neither of them said anything as two more blocks slid past outside his window. He really should tell the driver to pull over soon. They were getting close to his neighborhood.

  “You think I’m beautiful?”

  Her question had him glancing over with with eyes. “Are you serious right now? Of course you’re beautiful.”